


The Ghost of North Yankton

by killua (david_strider)



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 21:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12713499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/david_strider/pseuds/killua
Summary: "Trevor was, in fact, the ghost– and North Yankton was the cemetery in which both of them held their burials."___Michael and Amanda's relationship has been broken since North Yankton when she found Michael and Trevor sleeping together. Trevor's return may just break Amanda completely.





	The Ghost of North Yankton

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that I wrote about two years ago and just found on my tumblr, actually. I forgot I had even written it. To celebrate getting back into GTA V, I decided to repost this fic- it's actually a bit of an intro to a longer fic that I would like to write with the same theme, but with more detail and less ambiguity. 
> 
> Bear with me- this is really short and has a little bit of a drop off at the end!
> 
> Takes place about a week after the "Fame or Shame" mission.

It was ‘soup night’ in the De Santa household– the night when Amanda would make a huge pot that would last the whole week. She did this about once a month, so it never really surprised Michael on the nights that he’d return home to the warm, steaming, delectable pot of hot soup. She’d done this since the kids were young– and it always seemed to remind him of his days back in North Yankton, when soup was the only thing that kept their bodies intrinsically warm. 

Michael sat on the couch, reminiscing to himself. Trevor had always told him that the morning he saw Michael on the news for the first time since his 'demise,’ that he’d been nothing but a ghost. Despite this, Michael begged to differ. Trevor was, in fact, the ghost– and North Yankton was the cemetery in which both of them held their burials. It consumed his thoughts in irrational ways that would fill Dr. Friedlander’s ears– his only reply being a sigh while checking his watch and claiming, _’Y'know, Michael, I really think that’s all we have time for today.’_ The post traumatic stress Michael felt would leave him stuck in every moment back in North Yankton– from the loud gunshots that filled his ears, all the way to the bitterly frigid nights where he and Amanda would sob, wondering how they’d pay the next bill.

That last big job was supposed to support them– not demolish everything that he loved. He received all the money he’d every begged for. When he’d go to Church with his parents, he’d pray for money, fame, and recognition. The nights he spent in prison as a gawky teenager who’d rob convenient stores for fun his mind would go one hundred miles per hour– wondering how he’d be able to finally make it big. He and Amanda would count their lucky stars before each job, and he’d remember saying, _’Baby, this one’s for you. I ain’t gunna fuck this up.’_ He got her everything that she’d ever wanted– but the one thing that he no longer could give her was happiness.

That was something he hadn’t been able to give her for a long time, no; he’d fucked that one up beyond return. While he often played victim, he understood why she could no longer trust him– but he’d always try to fix things, regardless. His thoughts were briefly interrupted by Amanda, who was shutting off the lights in the kitchen. She approached him, crossing her arms in a way that indicated she was somewhat uncomfortable. “So… Are you actually coming to bed tonight?” He’d spent the last months, if not longer, sleeping in his car, on the couch, or wherever he’d discover a peaceful slumber. It was on rare nights that he’d actually go to bed with Amanda– and when he did, it was at four or five in the morning when she was already sound asleep. 

“Yeah, I think I am.” Getting up, he followed her upstairs where they laid down together as a normal couple. But that was never how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s how he _thought_ it was supposed to be, but according to his own subconscious and the past husky voice of Trevor who consumed his thoughts, he was “just like him.” He found it repulsive to consider that he was like Trevor. His best friend? A murdering, cannibalistic, speed freak? Yeah, he was nothing like Trevor. But a part of him was well aware that he was never meant to have the family life. He was never supposed to get married, have children, and sure as hell not sit outside drinking himself silly while the rest of the world revolved. 

A side of him craved normality. He wanted the life where he could walk in the front door in a suit and tie, kissing his wife while holding a baby in his arms. But that wasn’t him– hell, that could never be him. He would forever be the middle aged man attempting to relive the glory days– with a wife who hated his guts, a past with a man ten times more fucked up than he was, and a cold, empty house sitting on piles of money that didn’t all belong to him. He was a fucking coward, and he knew it. 

Amanda was the one who broke the silence once more. “Michael,” She hummed, looking over to him as she put on her pajamas. “What’re you going to do… Now that Trevor’s back?” For the first time in a while she looked him in the eyes, representing her sincerity. He glanced at her.   
“What do you mean?” Michael’s reply was more defensive than intended. When he didn’t receive a reply, he continued speaking. “Yeah, yeah, look– I know you hate 'em, but–" 

Almost immediately, she cut him off. "Can you blame me? Can you really fucking blame me Michael?” Scowling bitterly, Michael wasn’t quite sure how to react. He took a nastier approach than necessary, by asking condescendingly, “You’re being a bit hypocritical now, don’t you think?" 

"Oh, of fucking course it would come to this.” Amanda remarked bitterly, throwing the shirt that she was changing out of directly at him. Michael attempted to speak over her in attempt to 'justify’ his actions, but she spoke over him hastily. “Let me remind you that you cheated on me first, Michael!” Finally, he responded, “says my wife who was a fucking stripper!" 

Her mouth dropped open at his impudence. "I’ll have you know that I never cheated on you before I found you with him!” Michael went completely silent– the words that he never expected to hear coming out of her mouth. “…What did you say?" 

"Was it somehow okay because you thought I didn't _know_? You thought that I’d never realize that you were having an affair? How dare you call me hypocritical, Michael, when you were the one sleeping with your best friend– the last person who I’d ever assume you were fucking behind my back?" 

Michael’s silence remained as Amanda left the room– having admitted something that she’d never once stated aloud. As he sat in isolation, he couldn’t help but recognize that he was just as alone as he’d always been– and the mistakes of North Yankton would continue to smother him for the returning years.


End file.
